


From Veilstone, With Love

by kitenshi



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Cyrus can have a little forgiveness, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, as a treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 05:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30033858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitenshi/pseuds/kitenshi
Summary: Cyrus is long gone, but there’s still so much left unsaid.
Relationships: Akagi | Cyrus/Saturn
Kudos: 4





	From Veilstone, With Love

To my dearest Master Cyrus, wherever you are,

You don’t know what anguish I’m in. If I could climb back up to the Spear Pillar myself, I would. I’d howl at the air, willing it apart with the ache in my voice. If the Gods knew how I slaved away for you, how I was led by your careful hand to distances that wore down my soul to reach… and how every day, I sang your praises and remained loyal after the pain you caused me…

If the Gods were watching, do you think they would descend to heed my wish, and let me go to wherever it is you’ve been?

You exist in a void, now, Master. Without you here to occupy my time, I often wonder if you are happy… well, content, that is. You never were quite happy. Have you got a bed there, sir? Or is there perhaps a great expanse of grass, maybe a tree under which you can rest your head? 

Although the notion weighs heavy on my mind, I can’t imagine that your new dimension is one filled with flames. You may have hurt me, and everyone may denounce you as an evil man, but I know you. I know the warm, even silly side of you that - in front of everyone else, at least - you buried beneath layers of cynicism and hatefulness. You aren’t a hateful man, you just hated the people who hated each other, and became fools who hurt the innocent. You had a commendable sense of justice, for a man who surrounded himself with crooks. I firmly believe that you will not be punished. You were a good man, Cyrus. I just wish your intentions were more clear, earlier on. I would have stepped back. I love this world, and want to protect it, even when it treats me unfairly.

At the end of the day, your world is what you make of it. Maybe there isn’t anything there but your spirit… that incomplete thing you so detested. Yes, just your spirit, burning on and on in an empty room, all alone. Your mother’s tattoo, that sun on her womb, sealed your fate. You scorched me with your heat, and blinded me to where I could not see anymore, all I could see was red, and then you had me, melting in your hands… it takes a lot to not act like a block of ice, now. I don’t ever want to feel like someone’s property ever again. 

That’s why I am writing this letter. If I so desperately wanted, I could find you. It would not be outside the realm of possibility… but what for? What could you say to me that you haven’t said before? I tried to pry you open, I even tried to ease you into the idea of giving up your cold exterior once and for all. It’d make you a better businessman, I’d attest. A better leader. But really, I just wanted you to be a better lover. The way you loved me was rushed, an afterthought, as if there was something better to do. What? What could be better than someone who plunges before you, kissing your feet? Did my servitude offend you? 

I am trying to pick up the pieces of my broken life, Cyrus. I wanted to bloom for you, to be a testament of our intimacy, so that when people saw me, they knew first and foremost that I was yours, and that you filled me with love. You gave me a lot of great gifts, I suppose. Plenty of toys, and treats, like a pet. “Saturn, that paperwork is stressing you out? here, take this helicopter. It’s yours. You say your anxiety is getting to you? Have a drink on me. You feel like you’re entirely unworthy of love and need permission to even dare to breathe? Why don’t I buy you dinner.” The only thing you filled me with is a bunch of hot air. 

It’s my fault for believing it all, right? Just like it was my own fault for what you did to my eye. I hit you weeks before, that I can’t deny, and I will always be ashamed of myself for. You trusted me like I trusted you, and I two-pieced you in the face… I just couldn’t stand to be spoken to so cruelly. I was your employee, yes, but I was also your friend, and your partner. You cornered me and shouted in my face with such virulence that I thought, surely, I must be a stranger to this man. And still, I forgave you, and stood beside you for much longer than I should have. For hurting you, and letting you continue to hurt me, I have to forgive myself. It was such a violent time. I was always afraid.

None of it matters now. I’m getting all worked up over a wall of text, aren’t I? If somehow you became a God, and gained omnipotence, then let your grace peer into my computer screen and beam a response into my head. Knowing you, you’d probably read this and make my skull explode as punishment for my insubordination. So be it! I, Saturn, renounce thee as my Master! 

...Well, I wrote that, and my head’s still intact, so that means you’re not a god, or maybe you are, but now you understand how wrong you were. Team Galactic was a mistake. We could have built a perfect life of our very own, Cyrus, if that’s what you wanted. Now I have to build mine, by myself, because you were too much of a coward to let me into yours. I already gave up so much of myself to you. I have to figure out how to start serving myself. 

As time marches on, and the space between us grows further into a cloudy distance, I am still overwhelmed with shock.. not even at the massive events that transpired, but at the new hole in my heart, being free, without you to lead me. It is healing, slowly, and it bleeds when I pick at it, so much that I start to think that if I can’t run to you for help anymore, I’ll surely bleed out and die. But I don’t. From an early age I was conditioned to look up to some leader, under some flawed logic that I myself was not fit to lead my own life. I’m getting by alright. I feel very light, very fluid, in a way that I haven’t for years. 

I can’t talk to you, and I’ll never know why you made these choices, but when the despair sets in, and I feel horribly lost in this massive, open world, I can write to you. One day I’ll write again, a fully realized man, who leads himself, and doesn’t tiptoe around an angry beast, trying all at once to scrape up the morsels of attention you offered and dodge the searing pain your words caused. A man, riddled with scars and not the brightest, or strongest, but one with the power to do as I please and go where I like, to take all that I want out of life, and not just what you’ve permitted me. Never again will I ever ask for permission, or forgiveness, for existing, and having my needs satisfied. And I won’t hurt myself to appease anyone else, or as self-flagellation. I will not live in fear anymore, and I will not bow to anyone. I will never orbit around a sun that only intends to burn up and consume us all.

I pray that you look inward, Cyrus, and regard yourself with the same gentleness, leniency, and optimism that I have gifted myself. If you are lost in the universe, there is a corner of my heart that you will always belong in. You and I are both powerful, we will find our paths, without you leading, and without my help. I firmly believe this.

From Veilstone, with love,

Saturn


End file.
